


Echoes of History

by allourheroes



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, Magic, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hero slays the dragon and everyone lives happily ever after.</p>
<p>[K/S Advent 2013]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of History

**Author's Note:**

> For [K/S Advent 2013](ksadvent.livejournal.com)! I wanted to do a lot more, but between everything else, it didn't happen. A lot of headcanon got left out.
> 
> Um. But there's Spock as a dragon?
> 
> Title from the song "Conquest of Spaces" by Woodkid.

The dragon has attacked, but not a single soul has died. The people thank their magical protections and tend to the few who have been injured. It’s never been anything serious, but they fear it’s only time.

The dragon appeared a year and a half ago, by their calendar, and at first the thing had only been a rumor. Few had ever _seen_ the thing, but everyone had heard stories of its existence.

Lately, it seems, the thing has grown ever more restless. The sunlight glints off of its green scales as it soars into the sky, its roars echo through the villages--far past those that lie close enough to the forest to have come face-to-face with it. It didn’t used to roar. At least, not like it does now.

The wisest of the sorcerers say that they cannot take the dragon on, that they are not meant to. They must wait for a hero to come from the skies and save them, that the two beings are connected somehow.

The wisest sorcerer knows that this hero will save the dragon.

~

My name is James Tiberius Kirk and I’m here to slay a dragon.

No, no, I know what you’re thinking, but I am most definitely not from a land of myth and time of magic or any of that bullshit. But this planet... It, uh, it has a different idea of what is or isn’t possible.

Bones--that’s my best friend--he says that I’m being an idiot (as usual). You may be wondering why I’m not following his advice, he’s a doctor, after all, but he’s always telling me my plans are terrible. So, you gotta understand that it doesn’t mean much to me anymore. (It’s a challenge, if anything.)

Besides, some (supposed) wizard has given me a (supposedly) magical sword to fight the beast with. Come on, it’s a dragon. How many opportunities in your life have you had to play the handsome--if I do say so myself, and, in this case, I do--knight come to slay the dragon and save the villagers? None? That’s what I thought.

This planet hasn’t exactly discovered space flight, not technologically anyway, so Bones and I are keeping our identities secret. Well, as secret as we can considering that some of these people can read minds.

Apparently, magic and technology are mutually exclusive in terms of development--if only because people, and these beings are very people-like, don’t really care about inventing so much as a microwave when they can use magic to get the same results. It makes sense.

I might be a little jealous, but, hey, I get to visit, play with the weapons and all that.

Anyway, back to the dragon. I can’t be one hundred percent certain it’s real, not yet. I saw what might’ve been its shadow once, but that doesn’t really mean anything. It could just be a big animal, but the locals swear there’s some sort of magical beast living out in one of the caves nearby. We tried scanning around, but Chekov said “magical interference” with way too much enthusiasm before telling me it was impossible.

I guess I can’t blame the kid. I’m excited, too.

My first officer, Nyota Uhura, insisted we bring a couple of security officers, but I managed to find something to occupy their time while I started my quest. Yes, I’m calling it a quest, it makes Bones roll his eyes--a sure sign it’s something I should be doing.

I’ve gotta say, you’d think with all this magic they'd be able to stop this armor from chafing. Maybe I’m wearing the wrong size? Who knows. Does chain mail come in different sizes? I mean, it has to, right? Also, the metal is _cold_.

It’s snowing pretty heavily, but I know the crew stuck back on the Enterprise is itching to get going, what with no shore leave permitted, so it’s gotta be now or never. I may be the captain, but I’d like to think I wouldn’t abuse that rank--even if it meant not fighting a dragon.

Uhura told me this goes against the non-interference policy, but Starfleet doesn’t need to know _everything_. She disagrees with me, but I promised to bring her this weird translation thingy so she might go easy on me this time. The thing is magical, it recognizes all languages--through intent or something, I guess--and that’s all I know. Bones is taking care of it anyway.

Back to the point I was trying to make here is that I just trudged through snow for two hours to reach an ominous cave. _Maybe_ I’m feeling a bit of trepidation. I pulled out my communicator to let Bones know I made it here. He told me it’d be my own fault if I got barbecued, but I know he’s worried, the way he added, “Jim, just...be careful, alright?” Bones is really a big softie, I think the frown is just his face’s natural resting position. He’s back at the village (honest-to-god _village_ ) with a bunch of sick people learning about their treatments.

I’ll be okay though. I might have a death wish, but I think the bragging rights alone are enough to get me through this. A dragon. _If_ it is a dragon. (I’m really hoping it is.)

Well, here goes.

The cave is...actually really warm. The armor feels pretty unbearable now, but I’m guessing now isn’t the time to strip. Unless…maybe dragons are into that? 

I’m pretty sure I can hear _something_ in here breathing.

There’s something glowing in the corner. Wait, two things. Holy shit, are those its eyes?

Fuck, maybe I should get out of here. It’s a dragon. I can barely see it, but I think that big shape in the corner might be its body. If I’m right…this thing is fucking huge.

“Hello?”

As soon as the sound is out of my mouth, I know I’m being stupid, but, hey, I can’t help myself. It’s gotta be a fair fight…between me and this giant dragon. That might sound bad. I wouldn’t be me, though, if I killed it while it was laying there in the corner.

Shit. I don’t even know if it’s attacked anyone. Shouldn’t there be something about that?

It’s looking at me. Its head is moving, closer to me. I can feel its breath on my face and the sword is up against its throat. It doesn’t move any farther towards me, but there’s a noise--a whine?

Okay, it’s more like a growl. Backing up. “So, you’re a big dragon, aren’t you?” It’s following.

You know, now that we’re in the light, it’s pretty amazing. It’s even bigger than I thought, but it’s black with this shine to it. It’s rearing up and the underbelly is dark, but more of a green than a black. The table is long and barbed at the end, the wings outstretched and bat like. Wait. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

Waving my arms with a sword in the air probably isn’t calming it down. It’s opening its mouth, do I run? I guess the smart thing to do now would be to stab, so I’m trying. I get it in its shoulder and it sounds…sad. _Wounded._ I guess that makes sense. I stabbed it, after all. But…my chest hurts. There’s green blood dripping into the snow and covering my sword and isn’t this thing supposed to be magical?

I’m on the ground now, it pushed me forward and let out a roar, head tilted to the sky as it _breathes fire_ \--but why isn’t it burning _me_? “Hey, hey, calm down. I’m…sorry.”

Shit, I’m sorry. “I’m so sorry.” I’m up and the sword is hitting the ground. I manage to put my hand to the wound. Green seeps between my fingers but its whole body…shimmers? Did the sword do that? My hand is warm and sticky and it feels like if I just press a little harder, it’ll help.

The dragon stumbles and lashes out and its claws don’t go through the chain mail, but the pressure is intense.

~

Jim Kirk gets knocked down to the ground, hits his head, and passes out with a grunt. It’s not a pretty sight. There’s green blood dotting the snow, sticky and drying on his hand. The sword has sunk in a few feet away, the shine of metal and snow difficult to distinguish.

He’s not out for long, not even long enough for Bones or Uhura to have sent in a rescue mission, but when he wakes up, things aren’t as he expects them to be. He blinks and groans, one hand attempting to wipe the snow from his face as he supports himself on his elbow. As soon as he remembers where he is, he starts to panic-- _slowly_ and _quietly_ \--as he turns to face the dragon.

He panics quite a bit more when he realizes the dragon is no longer there. His heart is pounding, but it isn’t fear--at least not that his own body will come to physical harm. It’s fear for someone else, although he doesn’t know who.

There’s blood though. Plenty of blood. It’s enough to make a trail, snow sloughed away at the sides. Kirk just needs to follow the green smattering snow and ground alike, but he’s somewhat nervous. He’s traveling deeper into the forest with every step and its rather disconcerting considering the size of that dragon.

He doesn’t find the dragon though. There’s just a deathly pale man half-covered in blood laying naked in the snow. His own heart stutters.

“Shit,” Jim manages once he finally comprehends what he’s seeing. The shoulder wound still weakly pouring green blood. “It was you.”

He’s shaking more than he ought to be--he’s the youngest captain in Starfleet history, after all--but he puts his hand out, as if he wants to reach out and touch but is instead acting in surrender.

Upon closer inspection, Jim finds that the man is actually a Vulcan--the green blood was one thing, but it’s the ears that finally jog his memory. “Huh.” He crouches down next to the Vulcan and for some reason, he feels like he can’t breathe until those eyes open.

There is something wild there, something like Jim saw in the dragon, but there is a war of relief and sadness and conflict there as well.

“Leave me,” the Vulcan says.

“Wh- _what_?” Jim stammers out, his will already hardening against the very idea of it.

“Leave,” the Vulcan grits out.

“No,” Jim says, even though he had intended to ask why,

The Vulcan sits up and looks at Jim, who can see the emotions slowly shuttering from his eyes. “Thank you for releasing me,” the former dragon tells him, “but I have accepted the fact that I am to die here. You have prevented undue loss of life. I was…” He struggles with the words. “ _Losing control_.”

Jim tries to process the Vulcan’s meaning. “Losing yourself, you mean,” he settles on eventually, taking in the cold now wracking the otherwise still being.

“I could have killed you.”

Kirk shrugs, “Same.” He holds out a hand, which the Vulcan simply glares at, “Come on. What’s your name?”

“Spock,” he answers stubbornly, but does not move other than the tilt of his head.

“Spock,” Jim repeats, and he can’t help but smile. “Captain James T. Kirk,” he says. “Call me Jim.”

Spock inclines his head, “Captain.”

Jim rolls his eyes, “You’re going to freeze to death. Or bleed to death. Or both.”

“I do not see how that is any of your concern.”

“I _stabbed_ you.”

“For which I am grateful.”

Jim is frustrated and happy and fearful at the same time. He grabs Spock by the arm and the Vulcan shoots him a glare, but allows himself to be pulled up. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Spock is silent for a moment. “Why?” These people cursed him because he had let one of them die. To interfere would have been against Starfleet regulations and he had been a part of Starfleet then, although he had surely been listed as MIA since then. He had explained this and perhaps it was due to his Vulcan sensibilities that they had assumed he did not care.

A loss of life was never acceptable, but it happened. He had actually tried to save her, but it had already been too late.

Spock does not tell Kirk this, but Jim acts as if he had anyway.

“Two to beam up,” Jim says into his communicator.

“What was it like being a dragon?” Jim asks, as if it’s an acceptable question to ask a stranger. They’re back aboard the ship and Bones is checking the Vulcan over, the stab wound sealing over but the blood loss catching up to him, along with the pain suppressant hypos.

“You slayed the dragon,” Spock says, thinking back to the fairytales his human mother would read him. “What was it like to be a hero?”

Bones rolls his eyes.

Jim dreams of snow and shimmering scales and Spock dreams of fire and words once spoken to him.

~

_There had been public outrage and the outsiders had been banished--all but one._

_“You are not doomed,” the sorcerer says, patting the dragon’s side._

_Spock is barely conscious, but he’s trying to listen. His mind is roaring with confusion at his new state, his physicality so incomprehensibly changed. This is important, he knows._

_“If you are not heartless,” he continues, then hesitates, “then perhaps your heart is promised to another out there... Your soulmate can break this curse, should you be worthy of that honor.”_

_‘Soulmate?’ Spock wants to ask, but his mind is leaving him now and he’s trying his hardest to grasp onto his thoughts and not lose himself._

_It does not work and the sorcerer leaves the dragon in the cave alone._

_The Vulcan had almost missed his destiny._


End file.
